


Unmasked

by AncientMonument



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Feelings Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AncientMonument/pseuds/AncientMonument
Summary: "And now . . . there's someone new."Cameron was right.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Unmasked

**Author's Note:**

> Suppose the 2016 canon was taking place now, during the pandemic. Then suppose this happened between "Indefensible" and "Protect and Serve".

It’s ridiculous to hold an awards ceremony during a pandemic. There is the obvious risk of infection for a start, and the precautions that have to be taken against it spoil anything that might be enjoyable about the evening. Nobody can chat properly, the music, the masks and the distancing make sure of that. Catching up with people is impossible as staff are seated in pods from their own units and guests have been asked to stay at their own tables and not approach other teams. The bar is serving only tea, coffee and soft drinks in case the consumption of alcohol leads to what Henrik terms “risk behaviour”. Bernie suspects the CEO is as unenthusiastic about the event as she is herself. However, the Board has got a bee in its collective bonnet that the awards are vital for staff morale at this difficult time, so here she is, made up, masked up and done up to the nines, walking into the bare, over-bright ballroom at the eye-wateringly expensive Holby Imperial Hotel. 

A masked usher shows her to a table for four. The immaculate tablecloth is bare apart from four laminated placecards – herself, Serena, Morven and Raf – and a hi-tech, contactless hand sanitiser dispenser. The usher asks if she would like to order a drink. She asks for a cup of tea, then sits down and looks around the room. She doesn’t think she has ever been in a less atmospheric civilian venue. Across the aisle Henrik, Ric and Abigail, resplendent in formal attire, are seated stiffly at a table far too large for three. Bernie smiles at them and raises a hand slightly awkwardly. She thinks Ric smiles back. Abigail gives a small wave. Henrik is no more inscrutable with a mask than without one, so Bernie isn’t too concerned when she can’t decide if he has returned her acknowledgement or not. A waiter brings her tea. It is too hot to drink straight away, so she leaves her mask on and sits stirring her cup. She doesn’t take sugar, but she feels less uncomfortable with something to occupy her hands.

“Hello Ms. Wolfe,” Morven arrives, elegant in shimmering green and a spangly gold mask. “That’s a super dress, that colour really suits you.”

“Thank you, Morven. Your dress is lovely too,” says Bernie, thinking how brave Morven is to have made such an effort so soon after being widowed.

“Thank you. Here come the others,” says Morven.

Serena and Raf approach the table. Raf looks very handsome in black tie. Serena is the picture of sophisticated elegance in a simple black velvet cocktail dress. She sits down next to Bernie.

“So this is the dress! I was wondering what you’d wear. You scrub up well, Bernie.”

Her eyes crinkle in the fond amusement Bernie sees over Serena’s surgical mask every time they are in theatre. But this is not theatre. It is not a surgical mask. Serena’s black dress is beautiful, but her black lace face covering is devastating. Bernie opens her mouth to answer Serena’s observations about her outfit. To her surprise she can’t get past the tightness in her throat. She is very thankful for her own mask, which she hopes is covering her unexpected discomfiture. She swallows hard.

“As do you, Serena,” she manages.

“Why, thank you,” says Serena, clearly grinning behind the lace.

Bernie has never quite realised before the precise intensity of Serena’s sparkling dark gaze. The smoky makeup and the black lace frame her eyes like a work of art.

When did you get so sappy, Bernie mentally chides herself. Her attempts to get a grip are derailed when Serena bends her head to look for something in the clutch bag on her lap. Bernie finds herself unable to look away from the silky band looped around Serena’s ear. She follows the line of it to where it joins the black lace, which looks almost indecent against Serena’s rouged cheek. Bernie imagines Serena sitting in front of her dressing-table mirror, expertly applying her makeup, then laying the oval of lace over her skin and delicately arranging the elastic under the perfectly coiffed silver hair behind her ears. She can almost smell the powder she imagines Serena using. She wants to reach over to the silky elastic at Serena’s ear, to unloop the exquisitely feminine lace and lean in and –

Oh. She understands now. Ah.

“De-alcoholised Shiraz!” Serena is exclaiming. “That’s an abomination! A travesty!”

“In all fairness some of the non-alcoholic beers aren’t too bad,” says Morven.

“If you chill them very thoroughly first,” says Raf. “Have you tried any, Bernie?”

“Er - no, can’t say I have,” replies Bernie, trying to process her moment of clarity.

Serena continues expounding her opinion of de-alcoholised wine, reducing Raf to hysterics and even making Morven laugh. Bernie nods and smiles and “mmm”s behind her mask, her thoughts going nineteen to the dozen. Cameron saw this, she thinks. Cameron saw this and I denied it, because it was nonsense, ridiculous. Except it wasn’t. Oh god, where do I go from here? She applies hand sanitiser and unhooks her mask from her right ear so she can drink some of her tea. She takes a large, steadying gulp, replaces her mask and readies herself to deal with the evening with at least some resemblance to a normal human being. The irony of her feelings for Serena being unmasked by a mask is not lost on her. Cameron would love this, she thinks. She certainly isn’t going to tell him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the Holby City characters, or the storylines. This was written purely for entertainment. No payment has been sought or received from any source.
> 
> I saw some expensive, rather decadent-looking masks in a shop window and this came into my head.


End file.
